I don't really like people.
Like, until I know them,
I just don't like them.

That's why I'm bad at making friends.
I don't want to.

That's why I yearn to be special.
I don't want to be like them.

That's why even though I think I'm prettier than the average girl.
I don't think I'm pretty enough.
Or thin enough.
Or smart enough.
Or good enough.
I think I'm better than the average person.
But I don't like the average person.

But then there's the people I do know.
The people I do like.
All of my extra affection goes to them.
All my extra respect goes to them.
All of my extra worship.
And loyalty.

I either dislike you.
Or I like you way more than you like me.

It's funny how we always like things that are the opposite of ourselves.
Do we do it because we don't like ourselves?
Or do we not like ourselves because we do it?

I think the best kind of bodies are pear shaped ones.
I'm an apple.
My sister is a pear.
She thinks the best bodies have slim legs.

When I read poems on here.
I prefer the ones that are nothing like mine.
Mine never rhyme.
I like ones that do.

I have tan skin and light hair.
I think the prettiest girls have light skin and dark hair.
My friend who has a pale complexion
Thinks those with tans are the most attractive.

I think integrity is one of the most important virtues.
But I'm not the most honest person.
Patience too.
And that's definitely not my strong suit.

I don't think the reason for all of us doing this is so sinister.
I don't think we all do this because we hate ourselves.

I think we're just used to ourselves.
So something else seems so much cooler.
Think of all your clothes.
Your favorite piece is usually the one you just bought.

I think we just understand how we do the things we do.
Our talents don't seem that difficult.
Because they come to us easily.
But others' talents are hard for us.
So we value them higher.

I don't think we do this because we hate ourselves.
But I think we learn to hate ourselves when we do it.

It's really sad how many people hate themselves.
It's always the ones who seem the happiest that aren't.

I asked someone what his happiest moment was the other day.
He said he didn't have any.
I asked what made him happy.
He said making others happy.
Because making others happy was easy
But his happiness never lasted.
This person was one of the funniest, happiest people I know.
Or so I thought.

It's just so sad.
Some of the people I think highest of
Think so lowly of themselves.
Some of the best people
Feel the worst.

I'm not afraid to jump off cliffs.
And I'm not afraid to climb tall trees.
And I'm not afraid to jump barbed wire fences.
I'm not afraid to speak my mind.
And I'm not afraid to smoke cigarettes.
I'm not afraid to drink alcohol.
And I'm not afraid to tell people no.

But I am afraid to look a guy I like in the eye.
And I am afraid that people don't like me.
I am afraid that I'm the extra in my family.
I am afraid that I'm everyone's second choice.
And I am afraid to tell boys I like them.
I'm afraid that no one likes me as much as I like them.

In short, I'm afraid of rejection.
Really afraid...

I know of a certain blog that's dedicated to you.
The girl writes really good poems.
But they're all about you.
First, how much she loves you.
Secondly, she starts writing about how she doesn't understand.
She doesn't know why you left.
Thirdly, how mad at you she is.

I loved the poems when I first saw them.
They describe you so accurately.
But I felt kind of bad for the girl.
I mean it was a bit pathetic that she had a whole blog.
Dedicated to you.

I knew I would never do such a thing.
It just wasn't my style.
I would never let a guy mean that much.

I counted the number of poems I've posted here.
And then I counted how many were about you.
I realized I kind of did it.
I made a poetry page about you.

So from now on,
"You" isn't you anymore.
And this blog isn't about you anymore.
It's about me.
And this is your last poem.

I like it rough.
I like when a guy slaps my ****.
I like it when he bites my lip.
I like it when he makes me gasp.

Naturally I liked rude guys.
Because if he's rough in the bedroom
He has to be rough everywhere else.
Right?

Wrong.

What I need is a patient wolf.
Patient until he gets me alone.

"Oh ****."
Is what I said when I realized I was in love with you.
I mean we both knew I liked you.
But I wasn't even supposed to be doing that.

We would carelessly flirt, with your girlfriend around the corner.
Except now it wasn't careless.
At least not for me.
See that was the problem.
(Other than the girlfriend)
I knew you weren't in love with me.

"......****."
Is what I said after we kissed the third time.
See, you still had the girlfriend.
I knew her; nice girl.

"*******."
Is what you said to me after it all.
Well, you didn't actually say that.
But I imagine if we actually talked to each other that's what you'd say.

You always did like swearing.
I guess it does make it much easier to express your feelings.